


Alexithymia

by paenteom



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Blood Kink, Clothed Sex, F/F, Fisting, Miscommunication, Pining, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 01:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14822990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paenteom/pseuds/paenteom
Summary: Sameen has never been good with feelings. For Root she's willing to try.





	Alexithymia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pf122](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pf122/gifts).



> Thank you to the organizers of the POI exchange for making all this happen and thank you to my recipient for giving me an excuse to write about these two nerds!
> 
> Beta by Cy [cypress_tree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypress_tree) who is still the best, like, just in general.

**i: don’t**

Sameen’s fingers have barely left the steering wheel before Root is climbing up over the gear stick and into her lap, long legs bracing Sameen’s sides. There’s the kind of wicked smile on her face that usually only leads to two things: someone having a very bad day, or a spectacular orgasm.

Her fingers are slipping under Sameen's shirt before she has time to catch her breath. Sameen hisses at how cold they are and ignores Root's low laughter in favor of unbuttoning her pants. No one can say she's not goal oriented.

Root's jeans slide off her narrow hips easily, bunching around her knees. Sameen cups her hands around Root's ass and revels in the tiny shiver that gets her. Her thumb creeps underneath the waistband of Root's underwear, stroking over the downy skin underneath. 

She's almost starting to regret the choice of location-- what she really wants is to get her mouth on Root right now and there's just no way to accomplish that in the front seat of this car. She closes her teeth around Root's collarbone instead, lapping at it with her tongue, until Root moans and arches against her.

Root's fingers skim past her ribs to find her breasts, the heel of her palm rubbing over Sameen's nipple until she bites down on her lip, hard. Her hips buck up unconsciously, seeking friction, and Root is already moving before she has to say a single word, her thigh pressing between Sameen's own.

It's enough to wring a moan out of Sameen: Root's bare skin is warm even through the material of Sameen's pants, the feeling of denim against her clit making her shiver. She stretches up to put her mouth to Root's skin again, her pulse beating wildly against Sameen's lips. She worries at Root's neck with her teeth, her tongue; she knows that Root won't be able to hide these bruises tomorrow and the thought is more satisfying than it should be.

Root's hand curls around Sameen's face, her thumb rubbing over the curve of her bottom lip until Sameen sucks it into her mouth. Her tongue finds the rough pad of it, tasting salt and gunpowder. She can smell Root's arousal and grinds up into her with greedy, sharp movements, drunk on sensation. She realizes she could come like this: rutting against Root's leg like an animal. The thought is tempting.

Sameen cups her through her underwear for a moment, enjoying the feeling of damp cotton against her palm, before her fingers tug impatiently at the fabric, desperate to get to skin. Root whines low in her throat when Sameen's fingers find her cunt. She's so wet that Sameen slides into her effortlessly until the last knuckle. Her breath is hot on Sameen's skin: small, desperate exhales as she starts to rides Sameen's fingers in a slow, perfect circle.

Root is already bending down, her hair falling over Sameen’s cheeks, before Sameen realizes what is about to happen. Her other hand tightens around Root’s hips reflexively, her breath cascading in her chest.

“Don’t.”

Root’s smile slides off her face slowly, a brittle crawl that feels as monumental as glaciers moving. For a few seconds they're entirely motionless in the low light of the car, their breath the only sound in the silence. Root's mouth is red and wet and trembling just the slightest bit, only millimeters from Sameen's own.

Then her smile returns, like a switch flicked, sharp and full of teeth. She grinds down hard on Sameen's fingers, the deliberate rhythm of her previous movement gone. Sameen's breath escapes her at once, leaving her chest feeling hollow. She buries her face in Root's neck instead, finds her clit with her thumb until Root is crying out on every exhale.

Her nails drag down Sameen's neck when she comes, leaving a trail of dull pain in their wake. Sameen knows she won't be able to hide those marks either. She doesn't mind-- she's not very concerned about what Finch and Reese think about this. She ignores the small thrill that runs up her spine at the idea that everyone will be able to see what they did, in Finch's pristine car, as soon as they're back at the library. She can't be expected to think rationally when she's this close to coming, no semblance of rhythm left in the desperate motion of her hips.

It's Root's mouth closing around her fingers that does it, the way her eyes flutter closed when she laps her own taste off Sameen's skin. Sameen comes with a low groan, back arching off the seat, trembling.

They stay like this for a few still, quiet moments: breathing heavily, limbs all tangled up in each other. Sameen moves first, her fingers slipping out of Root's mouth to cup her cheek, her thumb stroking slowly over her cupid's bow.

Root's smile comes on slow this time, spreading outward from Sameen's touch until her eyes are crinkling at the corners. It doesn't leave her face the entire way back to the library.

**ii: please**

Root’s hair cascades over Sameen’s back like a dark willow tree as she kisses her way down Sameen’s spine, licking and biting at each vertibrae in turn. Sameen breathes a wet sigh into the pillow and arches into the sensation. She had been tense all day, muscles aching under the strain of a sleepless night and one too many chases around abandoned warehouses. Here, in the quiet of Root’s flat, with her fingers working out the knots in Sameen’s back while her mouth trails across Sameen’s skin, she finally allows her body to relax.

She expects it when Root’s fingers begin to wander, lets it happen. The insistent press of her teeth is a nice contrast to how gentle her fingers are when she cups them around Sameen’s breast. Sameen doesn’t try to muffle her moans: she likes to reward good behaviour. She can feel Root’s smile against the skin of her back when Sameen lets her legs fall open. She likes that she rarely has to tell Root what she wants, likes the way Root reads her body like lines of code.

Root takes her time, trailing her fingers slowly down the downy hair on Sameen’s stomach and stroking the inside of her thighs until Sameen reaches backwards to firmly grasp her wrist. That earns her a low laugh but she’s not above seeming a little desperate. She’s had a hard few days.

Root’s mouth returns to its previous task of marking its slow descent down Sameen’s spine just as Root’s fingers finally slide between Sameen’s folds. Sameen hisses and spreads her legs a little wider, feels the crisp sheets bunch under her knees. She wants Root’s mouth on her. She almost asks for it right then, but bites down on the words at the last second. Some things are worth waiting for. 

Root trails her fingers up and down Sameen’s cunt, her movement slow and deliberate. She tries to muffle the whine that Root’s fingers drag out of her but it escapes into the air anyway, tangible proof of her desperation. She can feel the shape of Root’s smile against her back. Her mouth has slid down to Sameen’s tailbone, leaving a wet trail in its wake. 

The sharp sting of Root’s teeth makes Sameen push back towards her. She needs more, wants to feel Root’s body against her. Two points of contact suddenly aren’t enough anymore. To her annoyance Root’s fingers move from her cunt to her back again, framing the path of her mouth. The throbbing heat between Sameen’s legs is overwhelming at this point, her need suffocating.

She grits her teeth and fists her hands into the sheets. 

“Please.”

Root stops moving entirely for a few seconds, her breath warm against Sameen’s already hot skin. Then her hands slide downwards to cup Sameen’s ass, spreading her cheeks. Sameen barely has time to process that development before something wet and hot touches her rim and sends sparks up her entire nervous system.

Root’s tongue is tentative at first: small licks around Sameen’s hole that make her shiver and shake. The sensation is odd, teetering between pleasure and sensory overload. She pushes back against Root’s mouth anyway and is rewarded with a moan and a bold, broad lick across her opening, teeth just barely grazing the skin around it.

Sameen hangs, breathless, on the thread between herself and Root’s mouth--her lips, the way she presses small kisses against her rim before licking into Sameen until she’s crying out into the pillow. Her eyes are clenched close; she tries to count the phosphenes dancing across her eyelids to hold onto her self control but it keeps slipping out of reach anyway.

Somewhere in the back of her head there is the distant ringing of alarm bells: for some reason this feels more intimate, more exposed than even being tied up, or hurt ever did. Before she can chase that thought Root pushes her tongue past the rim once more, her fingernails scratching lightly down Sameen’s thighs. Sameen decides to stop thinking.

**iii: more**

Root’s skin is sheening with sweat: it’s pooling in the dip of her stomach and between her heaving breasts. Sameen bends down to lap at it, her gaze fixed on Root’s half-lidded eyes and off-kilter smile. Her left hand is still slowly stroking the inside of Root’s thighs, cataloguing the small twitches of Root’s skin beneath her fingertips, muscles still riding out the previous orgasm. 

Sameen lifts her right hand to her mouth and wipes at the wetness there, tongue darting out to catch the last of the taste from the back of her hand. Then she sucks two fingers into her mouth, wetting them with her tongue.

Root’s eyes widen slightly and Sameen can’t help but grin. Root should know by now that Sameen likes to draw things out when they have the luxury of free time, but for some reason she’s still surprised every time when Sameen doesn’t dematerialize immediately after like some sort of spectre.

Root keens low in her throat when Sameen pushes two fingers into her, progress slow but steady until they’re buried up to the knuckle. There’s really no reason for her to be as careful as she’s being; Root is still wet and open from coming so recently, but she likes the way Root’s breath hitches with every centimeter, back arching with pleasure.

Her first few thrusts are shallow as she focuses on the feeling of Root, hot and soft against her skin. Root is soon grasping against her shoulders and bucking up against her, urging her on, so Sameen pulls out, ignoring Root’s offended whine, and pushes back in with three fingers this time. There’s still barely any resistance, only the sigh that escapes Root’s throat as she spreads her legs a little wider. Sameen presses a kiss just above her folds, then dips between them with her tongue while her fingers build up a steady rhythm until Root is gasping above her, nails leaving red trails all over Sameen’s neck and back. 

The decision is a split-second one, but Sameen is still a little hesitant when Root’s eyes fly open as she pushes a fourth finger into her. If she has gone too far, crossed some unspoken boundary-- but then Root’s back thumps onto the mattress once again and she grinds up and into Sameen’s hand with small, breathless moans. Sameen counts them in her head, follows their rhythm with her body as she rocks into Root over and over and peppers her thighs and stomach with bites and kisses. 

She could have continued like this forever, just following the push and pull of their bodies until the inevitable crest, but Root’s hands cup Sameen’s cheeks after just a few minutes and force her gaze upwards. Root’s face is flushed, her hair a wild tangled halo around it and Sameen suddenly wants to kiss her desperately, with closed eyes and everything that signifies. The thought almost scares her. She doesn’t, just cocks her eyebrows at her and tries to keep her expression inscrutable.

Root breathes in, three large gulps, and then gasps out: “More.” 

Sameen stares at her and the way her mouth shines red from being bitten in pleasure. She almost questions her then, whether she’s sure, whether she knows what she’s asking for. Then she remembers: if there is one thing she can count on when it comes to Root, it’s for her to know her own desires.

She pulls out her fingers again, licks experimentally at the wetness dripping down between them until Root grips her wrist impatiently. Sameen’s gaze doesn’t leave Root’s when she tucks her thumb into her fist and positions herself between her legs. It only finally strays downwards when she begins pushing in, watching with almost uncomprehending fascination as her fist slowly disappears inside Root’s cunt. The hot, wet pressure around her is almost overwhelming, making the breath in her chest stutter and hitch in wonder. Root is uncharacteristically silent, eyes closed and mouth open and heaving out a gasping staccato of breaths. 

Sameen doesn’t falter once during her slow but steady advance until, finally, the knuckle of her thumb pushes inside. Root’s entire body shivers, hands fisted into Sameen’s hair tightly enough to hurt, but Sameen barely feels it. She’s too preoccupied with wonder, and the way her chest feels suddenly tight with a feeling she can’t name. It’s so easy then, to press forward until she’s buried inside Root up to her wrist, every movement drawing another cry out of Root. 

Sameen watches her face for a while, the way her dark hair is spread all over Sameen’s grey sheets, before bending back down to put her mouth on her again. She could get used to this.

**iv: again**

Sameen’s hands are still shaking slightly with adrenaline when she throws the door to the safe house closed behind them and pushes Root up against it. The skin of her neck tastes like copper to Sameen’s tongue; it takes a few seconds before she realizes that her split lip is bleeding again. She leaves a trail of blood in the wake of her mouth, stark and vivid against Root’s pale neck. The sight makes her feel slightly dizzy with want.

Gunshots are still ringing in her ears as Root pushes her backwards and guides her deeper into the apartment. Her eyes are still flitting around, verifying that the blinds are drawn, the dust on the hall cabinet undisturbed, even as Root’s mouth trails kisses down her neck. She only closes her eyes when Root’s fingers finally slip underneath her shirt, nails dragging across her waist.

They strip quickly and efficiently, no fuss. If both of them take care to avoid each other’s injuries, neither of them mentions it. Sameen ends up on top of the oversized wooden table in the living room, legs winding around Root’s waist and pulling her downwards so she can mouth at her collarbone. Root’s hands are cool on Sameen’s overheated skin, slowly sliding up her ribs until they’re cupping her breasts. 

Sameen moans and grinds her hips upward and into Root: the aftershocks of the shoot-out are still coursing through her and every touch feels magnified, racing through her nervous system like a fever. She fists her hands in Root’s hair and pulls her down and Root follows willingly. Her mouth around Sameen’s nipple has her bucking her hips against the warm body above her, setting up a desperate rhythm.

Root’s fingers ghost along Sameen’s stomach, between her breasts until they settle on her shoulders. The touch is warm, welcome, a grounding weight to offset the post-combat rush. At least until Root’s thumb dips down and onto the stab wound above her collarbone. Sameen doesn’t even realize she hissed out loud until Root freezes above her, her mouth centimeters from Sameen’s skin. Her breath is coming fast, hitting Sameen in short, shallow puffs of air. 

There is a moment of silence where neither of them move. Then Sameen’s palm slides out of Root’s hair and cups her neck until her fingers find her racing pulse point, right where Sameen’s mouth had left bright red smears across her neck. She looks her in the eyes, wide and dark and filled with a terror Sameen doesn’t know how to quantify. 

“Again.” Her voice is hoarse, struggling past her tongue and tripping into the stale apartment air. All the shouting, warnings and orders and taunts, had obviously taken its toll on her throat. Despite that her cadence and her breath are even. 

Root blinks at her, slow, like a cat might, before a smile unfurls on her face. Sameen barely has time to inhale before Root’s thumb is pressing down on the wound again. Sharp pain races through her, radiating outward from Root’s touch until Sameen has to bite down on her bloody lips to stifle her cry. Her head hits the table with a low thump, hand tightening around Root’s neck until her pulse is hammering against Sameen’s palm. 

Root rubs across the open wound, smearing warm blood across Sameen’s collarbone. Then she bends down to put her mouth on her. Sameen can’t help the moan that escapes her at the first touch of Root’s tongue to the throbbing cut, lapping across it in broad, hot strokes. She’s so wet that it’s hard to think straight; her entire perception has narrowed down to Root’s touch, the sounds she makes, the way that Sameen’s blood beats hotly between her legs. Her left hand untangles itself from Root’s hair and slides between her bodies until her fingers slide between her folds. She whimpers at the first touch to her throbbing clit, the stimulation almost too much for her overtaxed nervous system. 

It doesn’t take long after that. Root has barely pushed her fingers between Sameen’s own, tongue rasping against the pain and heat radiating out from Sameen’s shoulder, until Sameen is coming. Her back arches off the table top, her senses reduced to the loud thunder of her own heartbeat in her ears and the blank white heat spreading across her closed eyelids. Root guides her through it, keeping up the steady rhythm against Sameen’s clit when her own fingers clench helplessly until she’s shivering from over-stimulation.

The wood of the table feels blissfully cool against her heated skin when she sinks back down, legs still twitching feebly. Her eyes take a few seconds to focus when she opens them again, Root’s face swimming before her like a blurry kaleidoscope. There’s fresh blood smeared across her lips and Sameen reaches out to touch it unthinkingly, thumb pressing softly against her cupid’s bow. Root is still smiling, breathless and beautiful, and something twists in Sameen’s stomach that she doesn’t really want to examine too closely. 

She pushes her fingers into Root’s mouth instead and loses herself in the perfect heat of her mouth.

**v: stay**

The sting of antiseptic is a familiar feeling by now but it makes Sameen grit her teeth regardless. The wound isn’t deep, a mere scratch by her usual standards, but Root had insisted on cleaning and dressing it anyway and would not stop needling until Sameen had finally given in. Now, balanced on the edge of Root’s kitchen aisle with Root’s calm, capable hands slowly cleaning dried blood away from the cut with a wet cloth, she almost regrets saying yes. Root’s proximity fills her with a thrumming restlessness, like ants crawling through her nervous system and making her toes curl. She wants to go for a run, or punch someone else, or leave the low light of Root’s apartment and drive all the way back to her own in silence and solitude. She doesn’t do any of those things. Instead, she stays still and watches her.

Root’s face is serious, intent, her eyes gleaming with the focus that Sameen usually only sees when The Machine is whispering in her ear. She is quiet, lips pursed in concentration. Maybe this is what unnerves Sameen: Root usually keeps up a steady stream of chatter throughout the day, filling up silences before they even exist and providing a steady background noise to Sameen’s life. She doesn’t even seem to care whether Sameen is actually listening or responding, and that’s why Sameen doesn’t mind it, like she does with other people who don’t know how to shut up. 

She’s gotten used to it in the past few months, Root’s motor mouth. It’s become a constant in her life in the same way Reese’s low drawl and Finch’s quiet voice have started spelling safety and security to her. Root even more so because she couldn’t just hang up on her when she has had enough; she has a way of finding Sameen anyway and winding around her metaphorical legs like a needy street cat. Sameen wonders when she stopped minding.

Root’s fingers are cold when they touch her skin and Sameen can feel the hairs on her arms rising in response. She bites down on her impulse to flinch. It feels like any movement might knock this moment askew, like the seconds are startled animals caught in the headlights. She can feel Root’s breath on her neck, even and slow as she spreads the bandage over Sameen’s arm and smooths over the tape holding it in place. She still hasn’t said a word.

Sameen watches Root’s nose crinkle, the way she bites down on her lower lip in concentration, and tries to place the low humming in her chest that won’t leave her alone. She wants to say something, maybe thank Root for taking care of her, but the words seem to float apart in her mouth. She can’t figure out a way to make them sound sincere, doesn’t even really know why she cares about that all of a sudden. It’s not like Root can’t read her just fine anyway; she has always understood Sameen’s body language better than anyone else Sameen has ever met. Sex with Root is easy, uncomplicated. Whatever this is--it’s anything but.

Sameen almost startles when Root looks up from her handiwork and meets her gaze. She looks tired, dark circles underneath her eyes from one too many late nights chasing after The Machine’s whims. She’s smiling anyway, almost imperceptibly, nothing more than the quirk of her mouth and the slight dimpling of her cheeks. Sameen swallows and looks away.

She doesn’t know where the impulse comes from in the end. Cold rushes in as soon as Root steps away from the counter and lets go of her arm, and before she has even consciously decided to move her hand is fisted in the front of Root’s blouse. Neither of them moves for a few seconds. Then Root blinks once twice, and opens her mouth, and Sameen bends forward and kisses her.

Root’s lips are soft and pliant against Sameen’s own, her warm breath rushing out in a surprised gasp. It doesn’t take her long to catch up: she curls her hands around Sameen’s shoulders and kisses her back, moving against her with the kind of fluttering desperation that makes Sameen suspect that she had been wanting to do this for a really long time. 

Sameen leans her forehead against Root’s when they break apart and licks her lips to catch the last remnants of the taste of Root’s peach chapstick. The back of her neck tingles where Root’s nails had gently scratched her just moments ago. She can feel her heart hammering in her chest but it’s not because of adrenaline or anger for once; she feels--content, comfortable in Root’s loose embrace, her fingers still playing with Sameen’s hair. She’s still smiling, broader now, all teeth and kiss-red lips, and Sameen’s chest feels full to bursting with something she can’t name. 

“Stay,” she says instead, mumbles it into Root’s hair while she twists her blouse between her fingers. Then she kisses her again, right on her beautiful, smiling mouth.


End file.
